


This Is Our Last Dance

by orphan_account



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Alternate Universe - Skating, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Ice Dancing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Multi, Mutual Pining, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Platonic Relationships, Romance, Winter Olympics, alternate universe - figure skating, figure skating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:40:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For a beat it’s just them; Eliot and Margo. She is the only thing that matters at this moment. From the loose wisps of hair framing her face, to the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Eliot rolls his shoulders, straightening his back and they begin.-Eliot Waugh and Margo Hanson have been an ice dance dream-team for the past fifteen years. Their intricate routines and chemistry on the ice are unparalleled.As they near the end of their final season and their final Olympic performance, all eyes are on them. With so much on the line, Eliot struggles to find his balance between training with Margo, a sudden prospective new beau and the terrifying thought of 'what next?' lingering in the back of his mind.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Quentin Coldwater & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & Julia Wicker, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. The Terror of Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the fic where I get to combine my love for figure skating with my Magicians obsession! I'm so excited about this! This is the first multi-chapter fic I've taken on in a while, so I'm looking forwards to this story's journey! This fic will definitely be focusing on Eliot and Margo's relationship (which basically means I make them actually talk to each other like they never got to in the show). In advance, I am not a figure skater, so if I mess anything up too badly please forgive me! I have done lots of fs research though! This work is not beta read, so all mistakes are mine!  
> Work and chapter titles are taken from 'Under Pressure' by Queen and David Bowie.  
> Enjoy!

**2003  
Canton, Michigan**

Dull scenery flew by as Eliot gazed out the moving window. The burry flashes of life somewhat reminded him of how it felt to do twizzles; everything losing its shape and melting into bright streaks of colour as he spun. Shifting restlessly, Eliot extends his legs as much as he can in the cramped seat of the rental car. Reaching down, he massages at one of his calves, working the tight muscles to fend off the tell-tale signs of a cramp.

From the corner of his eye, he can see his mother glance over at him before quickly looking back to the road ahead. “We’ll be there soon, Eliot. Just another hour or so,” She says placidly.

Eliot doesn’t respond, opting to leave it there. They’ve done well-enough not talking for the most part of the four-hour drive from Indiana to Michigan and Eliot sees no reason for them to be speaking now.

His mother, on the other hand, seems to not have gotten that memo, as she continues to fill the car with chatter that is uncomfortably fake in its cheerfulness.

“I think you’re really going to do well at this new skating club, Eliot. I really do. I’m just sad that you couldn’t stay at Summerway.” She sighs, tapping her fingers on the wheel. “It was just so close and I still don’t understand why you decided not to skate with Fen anymore. You two looked so cute out there on the ice together.” 

Eliot grits his teeth, “It’s not about being cute, it’s about actually being able to skate and win.” He and Fen had never been able to develop a connection on the ice, and as much as he cared about her, Eliot couldn’t keep skating in a partnership he felt was going nowhere.

“And this new girl you want to go skate with, you think she’s going to be any better than Fen?” His mother challenges, as if she thinks she can get him to change his mind and go back to the farm. Fat chance.

“Mom, we’ve talked about this. Fen and I made the choice to end our partnership together. She’s a good skater, but we just don’t match.” Eliot explains tersely. 

“I know, I know!” She exclaims. “I’m just saying, it was hard enough getting your father to agree to let you come down here, I’d just hate for you to end up disappointed and stuck at this new club so far from home.”

Eliot takes a deep breath in, shutting his eyes. He knows how hard it was to convince his father to let him go and train in Michigan. The animals in the barn had heard his yelling the day Eliot brought up the idea. Eliot had sat there as he spat and sputtered insults about how he had already let Eliot’s infatuation with ice dance go on for too long. His father had never supported his skating. Something Eliot had never been surprised by. His brothers would all call him names and his father took every chance in making it pointedly clear how strongly he felt against it.

Honestly, Eliot thinks that the only reason the old bastard even agreed to let him go was so he’d be rid of him. Eliot’s fine with that, he’s going to take the ticket out and never look back at the hellhole he grew up in. 

Training at the Arctic Edge Arena was the ultimate goal for Eliot. The Olympic skaters to come out of training there are seen as the best of the best and that's what he is going to be. The best. He just needs the right partner.

Enter one Margo Hanson.

Eliot had heard of Margo Hanson before, everyone who’s anyone in the circuit has. The Hansons are renowned in the skating world, an established family of performers and coaches alike. So, when it was posted that Margo Hanson was ending her partnership with Ess Knight and would be travelling from the Lorian Edge Arena to audition for her new partner in Canton, Eliot knew he had to go. He’d seen her competition tapes, Margo was a fierce skater and Eliot could feel in his bones that they’d be the perfect match.

It was the perfect opportunity to take the leap and send his own competition tapes over to the coaches at Arctic Edge and put his name down to audition. 

Now here he sits, twenty-five minutes away from the moment that might make or break his skating career and he wasn’t even seventeen yet. Eliot Waugh is just a farm-boy from Indiana who couldn’t medal past bronze with his last partner. Margo Hanson is his only shot at making anything of himself.

\--

**2018  
New York, New York**

With her hand in his, moving around the rink in tandem with Margo is as easy as breathing. So easy in fact, that Eliot lets his muscle memory take over, gliding from one foot to the other, as he takes a moment to breathe.

The cold bite of the arena air is hardly noticeable, despite what one may think. The slight chill he can feel is welcome if anything. Soothing rather than abrasive on his tired lungs.

As they reach center ice, Eliot lets go of Margo’s hand and watches as she drifts over to her starting position of their program. He does the same, skating in a lazy loop to land on his mark. For a beat it’s just them; Eliot and Margo. She is the only thing that matters at this moment. From the loose wisps of hair framing her face, to the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Eliot rolls his shoulders, straightening his back and they begin. 

Arms raising up, Margo hits her toe pick into the ice. Arms down. Another beat, the music begins and Eliot listens for the count before pushing off into the set-up for their opening lift. He glides and shifts into a half-turn, moving to skate backwards on the edges of his blades, only to turn and catch Margo as she twirls. Jumping into his arms, his chest is against her back, her legs bent to bracket his sides. One hand supporting her thigh, one on her stomach, Eliot holds them steady. Margo’s arm reaches back to hold onto his shoulder as he sends them into their spin rotation sequence.

They spin and Eliot moves Margo around in his arms, using the speed they’ve built with the rotations to lift her higher. Moving through holds, Eliot falls into the rhythm of the dance, his hands moving to exactly where they need to be so Margo can easily disengage herself from the lift, his legs keeping steady as he bears their weight.

With one arm coming to carefully cradle her back, Eliot twirls them into a dip as Margo regains her footing on the ice. He pulls back out of the hold, letting his hands linger on her sides momentarily as Margo effortlessly moves into a pirouette. 

Before they can progress any further a voice cuts through the music, “Stop the track! Reset!”

Eliot and Margo both scrape to a halt, the music abruptly shutting off around them. The only thing Eliot can hear now is the mixture of his and Margo’s laboured breathing. 

Margo throws her hands out, “The fuck?! Why’d you stop us? That was goddamn perfect.” Her voice is filled with frustrations and Eliot can relate. This is the fourth time they’ve been stopped before they can even hit the first note.

Standing behind the boards, Eliot watches as their coaches share a look. Henry Fogg and Jane Chatwin are the best coaches that Eliot has ever worked with, and with that means they’re also the toughest. 

“The dismount was shaky,” Jane states. “Eliot, you need to make sure that when you’re lowering Margo down from the lift that you don’t break that connection. It has to be smooth.”

The same correction he’s been given the past three times.

Eliot lets out a long breath, putting his hands on his hips and tilting his head back. He nods, worrying at his bottom lip with his tongue before looking down at his skates. “Yeah. I felt that too.”

The same answer he’s given the past three times.

From the corner of his mind he can see Margo watching him intently, eyebrows furrowed. She’s worried. Today isn’t the first day that Eliot has been off during training and they’re all starting to feel it. These days it feels like he’s off more of the time than he’s on.

He gives her a slight shake of his head as he skates past, brushing off her concern for now and getting back into his starting position.

The music starts again. Arms up. Toe pick. Arms down. Beat. Loop out into the half turn. Catch Margo and spin. Lift up, twirl, stay connected. Down and skate out-

“Cut!”

“Oh for the- What now?!” Margo exclaims, choked.

“You’ve lost your connection during the first lift, Margo. Eliot, same as last time, the dismount still feels too disengaged.” Fogg explains.

Margo looks as if she’s going to start off on him, but Jane swoops in first levelling them both with a serious look. “I think we’re just going to call it a day. Meet with your physical trainers later today, rest and then we’ll pick up again tomorrow. The Olympics are a month away, whatever funk you two have fallen into needs to be gone by then. Work it out.”

With that, Jane and Fogg both take-up their jackets and bags, leaving Eliot and Margo by themselves on the ice. Eliot sighs, skating over to the boards and grabbing his water bottle. He takes a long drink, feeling Margo come to settle beside him and do the same.

They’re both quiet for a moment, and Eliot ponders his chances of her letting this go and going to split some sushi together before their physical training sessions instead.

“What’s going on with you, El?” There it is. Margo’s voice is laced with care and it makes guilt settle deep and ugly in the pit of his stomach. How can she stand to look at him right now? After the only thing he’s done lately is fuck up the routine they’ve spent months perfecting?

“I’m fine, Bambi. Just tired.” He supplies in a weak attempt to cover for himself. He can tell she doesn’t buy it. Margo’s always been able to see right through him.

She shifts closer, taking his water bottle from his hands and setting it aside next to her own. She then takes both his hands into hers, looking straight into his eyes. “El,” she presses. “Come on. What is it? Is this still because of the silver at the Grand Prix?”

Eliot shakes his head, looking away from her. She’s somewhat right, taking silver at the Grand Prix was a blow after their previous undefeated season, but he could handle it. What he couldn’t handle was the sudden onslaught of doubt that hit him like a freight train. 

Coming back last season after their hiatus had been difficult, having to work harder than ever before to prove they could still keep up with the competition. They had though, proving themselves twice over in fact. But, this was an Olympic season and every slip up would be scrutinized under knife-point, case and point being the Grand Prix.

What if winning silver there was a sign that they were losing their touch? That in the face of younger competitors they weren’t the best anymore? This was their last season. While they hadn’t officially announced anything, it was a fact everybody seemed to already know and with the media hype surrounding them, there was so much riding on it.

Eliot didn’t know what to do with that. Skating and Margo we’re the two things he could count on, but now with both so intertwined, Eliot fears that taking away one would mean losing them both.

“El,” Margo says, stern and slow. “I don’t know why after so long together with you, you still can’t tell me what the fuck is going on. This is affecting both of us and if we want to do this then we need to find our footing again. Find us again, El. Talk to me.”

Swallowing hard around the lump in his throat, Eliot shakes his head. “Margo, I-”

She pulls away from him, rolling her eyes, exasperated. “Jesus Christ, El! I don’t want any more excuses! Either you buck the fuck up and tell me what’s bothering you or we just quit right here and now. Cause we can’t go to the Olympics like this.”

Margo turns sharply, grabbing her skate guards and stepping off the ice. Eliot watches as she slips them on and marches off to the changing rooms, not looking back at him once.

Alone on the ice, Eliot covers his face with his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, folks! Chapter one! I hope you're all enjoying it so far! If you are, please drop a kudos and a comment about what you think!  
> Have any of you recognized what real-life ice dance duo I'm basing Margo and Eliot's career on? I've modelled their style after three different pairs, but there is one team in particular that I'm drawing major career points from! Also, all their programs will be real ice dance performances so I will link to them in the following chapters as they are mentioned! (If anyone can figure out what one they're doing now it will be a dead giveaway to what duo I'm talking about, haha)  
> If you're eager to know, wanna stay updated, or wish to just say hi, come follow me on Tumblr @newnewduckberg  
> I'm going to be updating on Mondays so I'll see you all next week!  
> Cheers!


	2. The Edge of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to thank everyone who left a kudos or comment on the last chapter! I really appreciate it! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, it was so much fun for me to write!  
> I do not have a beta, so all mistakes are mine!  
> Titles taken from 'Under Pressure' by Queen and David Bowie!

**2008  
Gothenburg, Sweden **

“Right now you two are resting in third, but you’re just a handful of points behind the Russians. You kids give them a clean skate out there and you’ll be standing up on that podium later with silver around your necks, okay? Just don’t give the judges any reason for deductions.” 

Eliot nods as their coach relays the scores of their original dance, but he can’t bring himself to actually listen for more than a few seconds. He knows the scores and he also knows that thinking about them or anything other than just skating right now wouldn’t be productive. Worrying about their scores would just throw him off and that can’t happen right now. Not when there is a real chance of them making the podium at a Worlds competition.

He feels Margo’s hand slip into his, giving it a squeeze. Eliot looks over at her, taking in the resting look of calm on her face, betrayed only by the tight grip of her hand. 

She’s nervous, he is too, but Eliot also has the overwhelming knowledge that they’re ready for this. After spending all season preparing and perfecting their program, Eliot could skate it blindfolded. They’re so much better than they were at their Worlds debut last year. This time they’re going to be in the top three. This time, they’re going to win. Maybe not gold, but silver at least.

Getting her attention by giving her hand a quick squeeze, Eliot makes sure Margo’s focus is on him before he gives her a teasing smile. “Bambi,” he coos. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, the exact reaction he wanted. “El,” she says lightly, “Not this again.”

“It’s tradition, Bambi! Now come here!” He opens his arms and Margo tucks herself into his hold. It is a tradition, something they’ve done before every competition the past three seasons. They’ll hug. It’s grounding, for Eliot at least. It makes him feel settled in the connection that he and Margo share. So, they’ll hug and Eliot will whisper the same promise to Margo every time.

“No matter what happens out there, I love you, Margo.”

He feels her let out a sigh, some of the tenseness leaving her frame. Eliot kisses the top of her head, letting the moment stretch on for just a bit longer. He can see the signal from their coach, a wave of the hand that means it’s time for them to get out on the ice and take their places.

Eliot loosens his hold and Margo steps out of his arms. “Alright,” she rolls her shoulders, reaching down to shuck off her skate guards. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

Doing the same to his own skates, Eliot follows Margo out onto the ice. Distantly, he thinks it’s somewhat poetic, how he always steps out onto the ice after Margo because he really would follow her anywhere. From the moment he auditioned to be her partner they had clicked, on and off the ice. Eliot hadn’t realized that he could have the type of connection with a person that he has with Margo. A best friend, a partner in crime, or to be unbelievably sappy even in his own mind, a soulmate. It made skating so much better, to feel fully in sync with a partner for once. 

Overhead, the announcer booms, “Representing the United States of America, Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh!”

Taking a few laps around the rink, Eliot smiles, enjoying the atmosphere of it all. He loves competing. The intricacies and athleticism of the dances, all topped with a healthy dose of theatrics. 

They loop towards center ice and Eliot relishes in the bite of his blades against the ice as the anticipation in him builds. With a long stroke, they circle each other, before Margo delicately reaches out and they glide together to assume their opening pose.

Eliot feels himself fall into character as they take a beat before the music begins. One of his favourite parts about ice dancing is how expressive it is, how much opportunity there is to perform and tell full stories when done correctly. It takes a level of artistry few possess and Eliot loves it. The fact he gets to give the audience watching something they could never experience otherwise. Something professional and poised and alluring. Something worth watching.

As the opening note thunders through the arena, Eliot thinks he’s biased - he did choose the music for this program after all - but this piece may be one of his favourites that he and Margo have done so far.

He lifts Margo into a quick spin and they’re off; twirling around the rink. Eliot catches Margo as she spins into a dip, the music building up around them until it reaches its peak and they’re gliding around the rink into their second lift.

Eliot keeps his eyes on Margo as they flutter around the ice, the flowing material of her dark blue dress stark against the cool white of the ice they’re skating on. The colour matches the dark pant of Eliot’s own costume, melding with the stylized olive green of his quilted pattern shirt. Together, they looked like true royalty.

Skating backwards, Eliot drops to bring Margo up into their lift. One arm around her back and his other hand on her inner leg, he lifts as Margo swings her other leg up until she’s up around his shoulders. Twisting her around the back of his neck, Eliot bends his knees, finding his core balance as Margo comes to stand one-legged on his thigh. He hardly feels the sting of her blade, focusing on nothing but the steadiness of his legs, the hand he has on Margo, and the air flowing into his lungs. He can hear the crowd roar as Margo throws out her arms.

God he loves Les Misérables.

Eliot brings Margo down onto his shoulder for another spin before returning her to the ice and they fly through the rest of their dance. Long sweeping laps around the rink, synchronized twizzles, intense eye contact. They do some more stationary spins and tamer jumps, all leading up to their finale, where Eliot once more swoops Margo’s leg up and around his back until she’s standing with one skate on each of his bent thighs. This time they both throw their arms out, holding the pose and catching their breath for a moment before Margo drops down - Eliot catching her easily into a bridal spin.

They hit their last mark with the triumphant thrust of their fists in the air. Applause surrounds them and Eliot lets himself bask in it for a solid moment. His lungs are tired and his legs ache, but Eliot wouldn’t trade the feeling for the world. The aches and pains at the end of a program are the marks of a skate well done.

With Margo’s hand in his, they take their bow. Wrapped around each other, they skate off the ice over to the kiss and cry to await their results.

“Once again, Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh from the United States, having skated to ‘One Day More’ from Les Misérables.” The voice overhead commentator reverberates around the rink as they step off the ice, grabbing their skate guards and quickly sitting down with their coaches.

The adrenaline pumping through his veins starts to die down and Eliot is overcome with a bout of nervousness as their scores are getting tallied. What if they hadn't gotten the scores to move up to second? Could he have been too slow going into the twizzles? Now that he thinks about it, he may have been a rotation behind. 

“The total score for Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh is 208.80, which brings them into second place!” 

Holy fuck. They did it. Their second world championships and they’ve placed silver.

Eliot wraps an arm around Margo’s shoulders and tugs her into his side. “Good job, bitch.” He grins. She laughs, happy and light.

“You too, bitch.”

They stand, hug their coaches and accept the congratulations. They hug each other again and then move on from the scoring area so they can rest before the medal ceremony - and later when Eliot is up there on the podium with Margo as his side, silver tastes like gold.

\--

**2018  
New York, New York**

“We’re going out tonight!” Margo proclaims from her spot on his couch.

Over at his breakfast bar, Eliot raises an eyebrow as he finishes pouring them each a glass of the sickly green health drink their trainers recommended. “Oh are we now?” He questions, carrying the glasses over to the couch, handing Margo her’s first before sitting down next to her.

He watches as she takes a sip and the scrunches up her nose, quickly setting the drink aside with a disgruntled glance. “God,” she bemoans. “Are they trying to kill us?” She then leans back along the arm of his couch and moves her feet so they’re resting in his lap.

Eliot rolls his eyes, placing a hand on her calf. “Yes, didn’t you know? Death by kale is the most popular way to kill Olympic athletes nowadays, Bambi.” He takes a sip from his own glass and can’t help but pull a face. It truly is horrendous. “More importantly, however, we’re going out tonight?”

Margo nods, “Wicker is hosting some get together at her place. Figured since we’re still newer to training up here we should go and play nice.” She reaches out for her drink, taking another drink - this time without the immediate recoil, only a small twist of her lips. “Plus, it sounds like some of the others from the U.S. skate team will be there, so it’ll be good to catch up before the games.”

“Fen?” Eliot asks. Margo hums, “Quinn too.” 

Along with Julia, Fen and Alice Quinn made up the three qualifiers to compete in the ladies singles portion of the skating event for the upcoming Olympics. If memory serves him right, Fen and Julia will also be competing in the team event. He and Margo have also been selected once again to compete on the team for ice dance as well. 

Eliot had been happy to find out that Fen had qualified for the Olympic games this season. After their split Fen had really come into her own as a single skater and Eliot has been looking forward to getting the chance to catch up with his old skating partner.

“So it’ll be just us skaters then?” Eliot inquires. As much as going just to catch up with Fen is tempting, he’s really not in the mood to get stuck fielding questions from some star-struck schmuck.

“For the most part. Julia mentioned having some of her other friends coming over, but from the sounds of it they’re all involved in some event or another this year as well.” Margo drawls, jabbing at his leg with her toe until he sets down his drink and starts rubbing her feet.

“A bunch of Olympians in one room circle-jerking it to our own accomplishments. Sounds exactly like our kind of party, Bambi.” Eliot quips. Margo snorts, ungracious in a way Eliot knows she only acts around him.

“Don’t even pretend you wouldn’t enjoy that, El,” She fires back. “Either way, we are going. It wasn’t a question. I’m not missing our last chance to have real downtime before the games and neither are you. Mama needs a real drink.”

A drink sounds amazing. Eliot hasn’t had anything stronger than wine since the beginning of their season by recommendation of their trainers and he’s been dying for a glass of cognac. Or whiskey. Or gin.

“What time should I be ready by then?” Eliot asks, a weight of resignment settling across his shoulders. Margo smiles, sharp and pleased by his response. She swings her feet out of his lap and downs the rest of her horrid green drink without as much as a grimace, setting her empty glass down heavily on his coffee table as she rises. 

“The party’s at eight so be ready by then so we can wait for a few before showing up fashionably late.” Margo directs, circling the couch to grab her heels she toed off earlier and slip them back on. “I have a PT meeting about my knee, but I’ll call you when I’m on my way back over.”

Eliot hums and she leans over the back of the couch to press a kiss to his cheek. “No changing your mind and dicking out on me while I’m gone.” She jibes.

“Wouldn't dream of it, Bambi.”

Then she’s gone out the door and Eliot sinks into the cushions of his couch. The silence of his apartment rings in his ears. With Margo around it’s so easy to get lost in the whirlwind of their chatter, but when she leaves Eliot has to face the quiet alone - unable now to even indulge in any of his vices. Smoking a pack of cigarettes is a pretty big no-no when training for the Olympics.

Choking down a swig of his health drink, Eliot wonders when the thought of going out to a party started to make him feel more tired instead of excited. Going to parties and being lavish was a part of his brand, he should be leaping for the chance to go and blow off some steam with some fellow athletes. Yet, all he can focus on is the nagging feeling that he should be back out on the ice. Training harder to shake himself from the slump he’s fallen into.

He and Margo still haven’t talked about Eliot’s lack of focus on the ice lately. After the confrontation at the rink the other day she hasn’t pushed the topic anymore and he hasn’t offered anything either, so it’s safe to say the discussion is tabled for now. 

The aftermath of it has brought a new tenseness down around them that they can’t seem to shake. Eliot can feel it in the way they circle each other, acting like everything is fine when they both know it’s not. They haven’t been this reticent around one another in years, not since their first season skating together. It’s part of their work to be open with each other, trusting and concurrent so they can deliver the best performance they can. But, in true Eliot fashion, he’s locked up. Put up a wall to protect the frightened and vulnerable parts of himself. He can’t help it. He knows they’ll have to talk about it eventually, especially if his performances - or lack thereof - in training keep up the way they are. But, it just feels safer for Eliot to keep it all inside. Keep it from his coaches and trainers and therapist. 

From Margo.

If they knew then it would all be real. All of Eliot’s worries about the Olympics and his future past skating, all those insecurities would be shoved out naked in front of a spotlight. Everyone would know that Eliot isn’t as sure as he seems and it would rip him to shreds.

Eliot doesn’t realize how long he spends just sitting there until the sky outside his window starts to pinken. Grabbing his phone, he checks the time and curses. If he wants to even look somewhat presentable by his own standards he needs to start getting ready immediately. It may just be a get together at Julia’s, but Eliot has some dignity.

\--

They bring a bottle of champagne with them to Julia’s, having been to enough gatherings to know a gracious guest never shows up empty-handed. 

Wicker opens the door with a grin, “Hey! Eliot, Margo, glad the two of you could make it. Come on in!” She gestures them in with a swoop of her arm. 

Margo swans in, Eliot following a step behind. He pauses as Julia closes the door, holding the bottle of champagne out to her. “For you. Best champagne you’ll ever have.” Julia takes it happily, bumping Eliot’s shoulder with hers as they move further into her apartment. “Thanks, El. I may just have to hide this one away and drink it myself then.” 

The corners of Eliot's mouth twitch up. He likes Julia. She has a dry wit about her that he finds immensely entertaining and she’s a hell of a skater too.

They enter Julia’s living room where Eliot can see that Margo has already gotten herself a drink and has set herself up on one of the leather lounge chairs positioned around the room. A handful of others mill about, some that Eliot recognizes and some he’d never seen before. He spots Alice Quinn chatting with a shorter man wearing glasses. Kady Orloff-Diaz, a staple competitor of the U.S. women's snowboarding team, talking to both Margo and a man who has the most interesting looking hand tattoos Eliot has ever seen.

Eliot is about to turn and ask Julia if everyone has arrived yet when from behind him he hears a loud - excited - shout of his name. 

“Eliot!”

He’s suddenly bombarded from his side, a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapping around his waist. “Oh Christ,” Eliot startles, almost toppling over from the sudden weight, but he rights himself quickly thanks to years of practice with balance. “Okay - wow. Hi, Fen. Really nice to see you too.”

Fen laughs, pulling herself away from Eliot’s side. She looks good, the last time he had seen her was almost four years ago after she had only just missed the qualifications for Sochi. It was nice to see her now, bright with enthusiasm like she had been when they were kids.

“How have you been, El? We haven’t gotten the chance to talk in so long! You and Margo must be busy training, huh? Third time at the Olympics is no joke.” She rattles off in a way that would make any lesser man's head spin. Eliot just smiles. Thankfully, Eliot thinks, despite everything around him changing - Fen is still Fen.

“I’ve been good, Fen. Let’s go get a drink before we dig into anything else.” He drapes an arm around her shoulders and leads her over to where Julia has her bar set up. “Where did you even come from anyway?”

“Kitchen,” Fen supplies, snagging two glasses and sliding one to Eliot. “I was talking to Quentin when I heard the door open and there’s only one man I know who shows up exactly fifteen minutes late to a party.” She pokes goodnaturedly.

Eliot chuckles, pouring himself a generous two fingers of gin. “Sounds accurate enough. Now, who’s-?”

“You don’t know anyone here who’s not a skater, do you?” Fen asks, amused. Eliot shrugs, raising an eyebrow, “I know Kady.” 

Fen laughs, “Anyone else? Who’s that talking to Alice?” She goads.

Looking around, Eliot watches the man talking to Alice. He’s rather average looking. Definitely not a skater of any kind by the way he holds himself. Eliot wracks his brain trying to recall if he’s seen this man before, but only draws a blank.

“Okay,” He huffs. “Sue me, I don’t spend much time paying attention to things or people outside the rink. Now spill.”

“Josh Hoberman,” Fen states. “He’s on the curling team. Nice guy. Very into baking.”

Eliot nods, storing the information away in the random information part of his brain. “What about Mr. Serious over there? The one talking to Margo and Kady?”

“Penny Adiyodi,” She hums, taking a sip from her drink. “He’s in one of the freestyle skiing events. Aerial, I think.” 

Skiers and curlers. No wonder Eliot had never seen them before. Contained to the arena, Eliot never had much time to pay attention to the outside events. The only reason he even knew of Kady was because she came to visit Julia at the rink sometime during open training days.

Taking a healthy pull of his drink, Eliot leans his back against the bar. Talking to Penny may be interesting enough, the skiers he’s met at the Olympic Village have always had some interesting stories to tell. On the other hand, Eliot can’t say he has any desire to talk about curling with Josh. He seems nice enough and if he can hold a conversation with Alice he’s probably somewhat of an intellectual, but Eliot isn’t in the mood to toe the fine line of a conversation that will either be sharp or unbearably dull.

For now, he’s comfortable sipping his gin and talking to Fen. He completely forgets to ask about the man she was talking to in the kitchen until later - when Eliot finds himself finished with his spirit and craving the taste of something lighter. Like the champagne, he brought for Julia.

He pushes himself away from the bar, excusing himself from the conversation he’d been having with Fen, Margo and Penny who had wandered over earlier - Eliot had been right, Penny was quite fun to talk to, sarcastic with an acerbic wit that he enjoyed. Margo tapped her finger twice on her own glass, a sign she wanted some of whatever he was getting for himself and he gave her a thumbs-up as he slips away to the kitchen.

Expecting the room to be empty, Eliot is surprised when he steps in to find a man sitting alone on one of the countertops, nursing a beer.

“Oh,” The man freezes as if he’s been caught doing something worse than drinking an IPA.

Eliot gives the man a once over. Floppy brown hair that is tucked behind his ears and yet still falls in front of his warm, dark brown eyes. Or are they a darker hazel? Eliot really can’t tell from where he’s standing, but he can definitely see the definition of the man's strong shoulders underneath the sweater he’s wearing. None of his clothes look like they fit overly well, but there’s just enough of a hint there that has Eliot’s lips curling into a flirty smile. This guy is cute in a dishevelled nerdy way. Just Eliot's type.

“Well hello there,” Eliot all but purrs. “Hiding from the party, are we?”

The man looks flustered, eyes flicking over Eliot’s face before he gives him a tentative, wry smile, “Sort of. Not really a gatherings person.” He offers.

“Why’d you come then?” Eliot asks, moving in closer and setting his empty glass down near the sink. 

“Julia is my best friend, she threatened me.” 

Eliot presses his lips together to smother a laugh. He knows all too well about headstrong best friends with dictatorial tendencies. Instead, he hums and holds out his hand towards the cute strangers. “Nice to meet you, Julia’s friend. I’m Eliot.”

He takes Eliot’s hand. “It’s Quentin actually.”

The name clicks in Eliot’s head, “You were the one talking to Fen earlier. When I first arrived.”

Quentin nods, “Yeah, that was me. I had kind of thought maybe something bad had happened, with how fast she ran out of here. She was nice to talk to.”

“She is. That’s the nice thing about parties, you see. You can have some new and delightful conversations.” Eliot teases with a smirk.

“Oh yeah,” Quentin snorts, taking a pull from his beer. “With who? That asshole Penny? Or maybe with my ex-girlfriend?”

“With me, obviously.”

Quentin sputters on his sip of beer and Eliot can’t help but grin. He can tell already how easy it is to make Quentin frazzled, but there was a bite to him too. Some willingness to banter. A bit of push-back, if you will. Eliot finds himself intrigued by the seemingly quiet man - wanting to know more. And it felt _good_ , really good in fact, to just focus on flirting with the cute boy in front of him.

“So, Q. Any chance I’ll be seeing you wandering around the Olympic Village this year?” Eliot inquires, pushing forwards. He hopes so. God, does he hope so. Not like it’d be a deal-breaker or anything if Quentin wasn’t a competitor or even an athlete, Eliot just really wants to see Quentin in Olympic gear.

“Uh, yeah. I’m in freestyle skiing. Moguls more specifically.” Quentin proclaims, something creeping into his voice towards the end. It sounds the same as whenever Eliot gets talking about skating and Margo. It's a passion for what you’ve invested your life in. “Are you competing in anything?” He asks and Eliot is taken aback.

Did Quentin really just ask if he was competing? Eliot blinks, bewildered, he figured Quentin had some semblance of who Eliot was. Figure skating is one of the more popular events and he and Margo have been in the eye of it all for the past two games. It’s a bizarre feeling, not being recognized after years of accolades, but it’s also overwhelmingly refreshing.

“Yeah, I’m a figure skater. I compete in ice dance with my partner, Margo.” He explains, watching as Quentin nods, his brows furrowing as he obviously tries to remember what event ice dancing even is. Eliot loves it.

“Oh, cool. That’s the one where you do spins and jumps and then throw the girl through the air, right?” Quentin tries, looking to Eliot expectantly.

“Ah,” Eliot chuckles. “Not quite. What you’ve described is pair skating. Ice dance involves a lot more intricacies in the footwork, music and dance holds. Think ballroom on ice but ten times sexier, add in some fancy lifts and you’ve got ice dance.” 

Quentin looks surprised after Eliot's explanation.“That actually sounds really interesting. Like, super elegant and shit.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that and simply say yes, it is super elegant and shit. I’m pretty good at it too if my three Olympic medals have anything to say about it.” Eliot declares with the raising of his eyebrow.

Quentin blanches, “Oh- no wait, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean that I thought what you did would be boring, I mean how could someone that looks like you be boring? I just meant that- okay, wow, I’m not making this better, am I?”

Eliot has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. How on Earth can this fumbling mess of a man be so charming? “I wouldn’t say you’re making it any worse.” Eliot proffers.

“Oh. Okay, good.” Quentin smiles and Eliot wants to scream. 

Just it looks like Quentin is about to go on and say something else, Julia pops into the kitchen. “Eliot! Q! There you two are! I’ve been looking for you. El, Margo is looking for you. She was complaining about you forgetting to get her another drink?” 

Eliot rolls his eyes, but he’s not annoyed. He did forget about their drinks, but he thinks he can make it up to Margo by regaling her with his tale of meeting cute skier boy Quentin. He gives Quentin an apologetic look, “It seems I’m being summoned elsewhere. Will I be able to find you lurking around here if I come back after?”

“Actually,” Julia cuts in, “I was looking for Q to let him know the cab he ordered earlier is here.”

Quentin hops off the counter and Eliot had not realized how short the other man was until just that moment. “I have to travel early tomorrow for training,” Quentin adds, the hint of disappointment in his voice making Eliot hopeful.

“I guess I’ll be seeing you around then.” Eliot nudges him lightly, attempting to lighten up the sudden dip in the atmosphere.

“Probably not until the Olympics but, yeah. I’d like that.” Quentin confesses. His emotions are written across his face clear as day and Eliot can’t help but smile at those eager, puppy-dog eyes that are pointed his way.

“Oh, Q. We’ll definitely be seeing more of each other before then. I can guarantee it.” He says with a wink, taking pleasure in the way Quentin's face flushes so easily as he trails out of the kitchen behind Julia. A nice mixture of the booze he’d been drinking earlier and Eliot’s blatant flirting.

Margo may be pissed at him for forgetting her drink, but Eliot can’t consider that to be too much of a problem. Not when he got to meet Quentin - in all his floppy-haired, bad-mannered, blushing faced glory.

Quentin, who’s just left the party. Quentin, who’s last name Eliot never caught. Quentin, who’s phone number Eliot forgot to ask for.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of chapter two!  
> The ice dance to 'One Day More' that Margo and El performed at their Worlds is an actual performance (as they all will be in this fic). It was done by Madison Chock and Evan Bates in 2014 and you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kRG2S9we4NA&t=9s  
> Please go check it out! I definitely did not do it justice and it's an amazing dance to watch!  
> Chock and Bates are one of the duos I'll be pulling from performance-wise, but if ya'll haven't guessed yet, Eliot and Margo's skating and career will be primarily based around my favourite ice dance team: Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir!  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you're all enjoying this as much as I am. Kudos and comments are so very appreciated and really help to keep me going, so please drop one! Also, please go follow me @newnewduckberg on Tumblr if you'd like updates or just to hang!


	3. Kick my Brains Around the Floor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hail and well met, my dudes! Here be chapter three! Enjoy!  
> No beta, all mistakes are mine!  
> Titles from 'Under Pressure' by Queen and David Bowie

**2010  
Vancouver, Canada**

“Has it hit you yet?”

Eliot adjusts the collar of his billowy white shirt, the fabric soft and nearly unnoticeable against his skin. “No,” he replies, looking over at where Margo is sitting. Her costume is an elegant silver-white, crystalline beads adorning her bust. She looks like something out of a fairytale and, Eliot supposes, so must he. “I hope it doesn’t. Not until we’re done skating.”

Margo gives him a look that is equally understanding and unimpressed. Eliot gets why. He should be living on top of the world right now, not wanting to walk around blindfolded. He just fears that if he does let the gravity of it all hit him - that he’ll explode and not be able to go on.

Because they’ve finally made it to the Olympics. Eliot can hardly think the words without his brain fritzing out. They’re at the Olympics and in the past three days, they’ve skated for their country in front of the entire world twice over. Second in the compulsory. First in the original. It’s a feeling Eliot can barely begin to fathom, how at twenty-two he’s finally made his dreams a reality. Now it’s just the free dance left and Eliot swears that if he can just have one more clean skate he’ll let it all hit him like a semi-truck. Until then, he thinks, it’s just another performance. Another skate he knows how to do and with Margo at his side, he can execute beautifully.

“Hanson, Waugh. Get ready, you’re skating in five.” One of the Olympic attendants beams at them before walking away briskly. 

“Thank you five,” Eliot murmurs to himself under his breath as he checks over his laces one last time. He can hear Margo huff a tiny laugh that lets him know she had heard him and he can feel some of the tension relieve itself from his shoulders. They can do this. It’s just like any other performance. Higher stakes, yes - but at the end of the day, Eliot realizes, it’s still just going to be him and Margo out there on the ice and they can do this. Olympics or not.

Their coaches usher them out of the wings and towards the ice. Along their way, they pass the team that’s just coming back from the kiss and cry. They don’t look overly happy and it morbidly makes Eliot feel better. 

“Hey,” Margo prods, “Get over here and hug me.” She’s an intimidating force, even in the most delicate of figure skating skirts and Eliot adores her for it. Not one to deny Margo anything, or to break their tradition, Eliot wraps her up in his arms and together they take in a hefty breath of air. 

“Whatever happens-” He starts, but Margo is quick to cut him off. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever happens, I love you too.” Her fingers grip into the material of his shirt for a brief moment, before she lets go and soothes out the minuscule wrinkles left behind. “Love you, Bambi.” Eliot chuckles as he takes a step back. “Now. It’s showtime.”

Passing their skate guards off to their coaches, Eliot and Margo step out onto the ice. Olympic ice - Eliot’s mind supplies distantly. He takes her hand as they’re announced letting it fade out around them as they settle into a glide of mindless, easy chatter. 

“You hear that one of the ladies singles has like, three triple axles in her program?”

“Oh, we are absolutely watching that.”

“Our next skaters are skating to ‘Minor Symphony No. 5’. Representing the United States, Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh!”

They skate in a loop to center ice, languid and easy, raising thor joined hands. Turning in towards each other, Eliot knows that the performance starts now - before the music even starts. He bumps his forehead against Margo’s gently, sharing with her a soft smile as he does. Their hands link together once more for a single half-turn before they drift away from each other. Eliot lets his fingertips graze down the length of Margo’s arm as she skates away - he takes a sharp turn, ice grinding under his blades, so he’s in his position. Making eye contact with Margo for a brief moment before she turns her back on him, he can feel the intensity in her gaze. She wants this just as badly as he does. This is no time for a safe skate; they have to go all-in if they want gold.

Margo turns and Eliot casts his eyes down to the ice. He keeps his arms open at his sides, holding for a beat. He can hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, heavy and thumping in time with the shuttering of camera lenses around him.

The dreamy opening notes of their program start-up and Eliot definitively knows he was right earlier - it’s all just him and Margo. It’s their connection to one another and the ice that drives him, the only thing that matters as they dance around each other. Eliot slides down to one knee, placing a feather-light kiss to Margo’s hand, before leaning back with one arm out as she drapes herself around him. Quickly they right themselves, Eliot letting himself all but fall into Margo’s arms as they enter a twirling embrace. From there they pick up in pace, skating around the arena deftly, filled with small lifts and twirls as they tell their story. Eliot thinks it is very Swan Lake-esque, all the love and infatuation. The longing glances and touches that come so naturally throughout the program - so graceful and pure, yet still bittersweet at its core.

Eliot finds himself moving into the set-up for their first quick series of lifts, the subtle shifting of his weight, the positioning of his skates as he bends to pick Margo up. Using one hand he supports her thigh as she swings her other leg up over his head, twisting so she falls safely into his arms. Eliot shifts her up and around until he’s steadily rotating with Margo on his shoulder - an easy position for her to then sling herself around his back to grasp onto his arm. Using the speed from the rotations, Eliot brings Margo around his body in another lift; grabbing her legs and supporting them up as she flips upside down. They hold for three turns before Margo brings herself up, Eliot quickly maneuvering his hold on her to now support her waist and back as she wraps her arms around his neck while they spin.

Once her skates are firmly back on the ice, Eliot glides back, falling into a synchronized step as they twist into their dance spin. Then they’re chasing each other around the rink again. Turning into a flurry of turns, slides and spins that conform into a whimsical ballroom dance. Eliot feels nothing but pure exhilaration, moving into the twizzles and moving across the ice, knowing that their next standing lift will be the moment of truth. Flying into the lift, Eliot drops into a crouch, feeling the pressure and sting of Margo stepping up, but it’s overshadowed by the applause. He catches her as she dismounts, easily and without hesitation. The rest of their performance hardly registered in Eliot’s brain - just a blur of movement. Of hops and footwork and gentle touches that lead into their last lift. Margo leaps into his arms effortlessly, Eliot putting all his focus into his core and arms as he twirls her around his shoulders.

The music swells around them as Eliot places Margo back down and with the utmost precision, they finish their program. Low to the ice, they spin together, Margo's leg draped across his knee, rising up only so Eliot can catch Margo as she collapses into his arms. He guides her down into his embrace, the sides of their faces pressed together intimately as their hands clasp together - outstretched towards the sky. 

Around them, the trembling bass of the music fades away and it is replaced with a cacophony of deafening cheers from the audience around them. It snaps Eliot back to reality. He had gotten swept away by the ice and the music, lost to the story - to the point where he had forgotten anyone was watching at all.

Margo stands and Eliot rises to join her. Their hands still clasped tightly, he pulls her into a breathless hug, heart pounding. Pride shines in his chest. They’ve done it. Moving back, Margo gives him a wild grin that Eliot is sure he returns in kind. He can’t really tell. His face feels sort of frozen. Turning to the adjudicators, they raise their hands and bow, sending another wave of screaming cheers through the arena. 

“Representing the United States, Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh!”

Eliot’s nerves feel like Pop-Rocks under his skin, fizzing and shooting off in every direction as he and Margo skate over towards the kiss and cry. All the pent up excitement, fear and nerves he hadn't let himself feel earlier it crashing down on him at once, and Eliot can hardly contain it. Once they’re near enough to the wall of padded foam mats that work as a blockade to the scoring area, Eliot all but jumps upon one of the mats - in an odd hybrid bellyflop-leap movement - and pulls in one of their trainers for a one-armed hug. He hears Margo huff behind him as their coaches laugh.

Everything feels bright around him, rose-tinted, full of a ravening joy as they sheath their skates and walk over to the kiss and cry bench. Eliot has never thought himself a surrealist, but as the crowd begins to chat for their country because of him and Margo, he thinks that this moment is when he may start to be.

“The free dance scores, please,” The voice of the presenter petitions. Time seems to freeze around Eliot as they wait. The brief moment lasts forever. They need at least 104.60 to have a secured Olympic medal. Eliot’s leg starts to shake and Margo reaches over and puts a hand on his knee. He takes a breath.

“They have earned 110.42 points in the free dance, which is a new season-best.”

Before the announcer is even done speaking, Eliot is up on his feet. Adrenaline burning through him as a roar of victory is ripped from his chest, fists punching the air. He lets his head fall back, heaving in ragged gulps of air. 110.42. That’s fucking gold. He closes his eyes and thinks vaguely that this would be where he’s supposed to whisper prayers of thanks to a God of some sort. The thought itself makes Eliot’s lips taste bitter, so instead, he murmurs his worship to what he knows has brought him here. To the ice and the cool steel of his skates. To the burn of his thighs and the strength of his core. To his coaches and trainers. To Margo. Fuck, just give it all to Margo. His anchor to hold him steady in any storm, the driving force that kicks his ass to be great in all he does. His Bambi.

He turns to her, and they lock eyes with twin smiles of exhilaration. Her eyes are misty with tears and Eliot quickly wraps his arms around her, pulling her in and pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“We won the Olympics,” Margo laughs. “Holy shit, Eliot. We won.”

Overhead, he distantly hears the announcer continue to speak, “Margo Hanson and Eliot Waugh have a total competition score of 221.57 points and are currently in first place!”

Years of training and competitions have brought him to this moment. Of he and Margo working tirelessly to push boundaries and be better. His entire life simply the penultimate chapter leading up to this, this one moment where, in a single breath, he’s gone from Eliot Waugh - to Eliot Waugh the Olympic gold medalist. 

Nothing will ever be the same again.

“Yeah, Bambi,” He croaks, emotion overriding his body. “We fuckin’ won.”

\--

**2018  
New York, New York**

The incessant buzzing of his phone alarm jostles Eliot from his sleep. With a groan, he fumbles around, eyes closed, until he finally snatches it from where it lay on his bedside table. Prodding at the screen, the buzzing stops and Eliot lets himself sink back into bed with a sigh. His limbs have a tired ache to them, his brain full of cobwebs and he can tell that training is going to kick his ass today.

Pushing himself up, leaning back onto his elbows, Eliot looks out the wide bay windows of his apartment. His view is nothing special, but Eliot loves it nonetheless; the smalltown farm boy in him forever a bit in awe of the muchness of the city. Outside, the sky is still dark and will be for another half hour more. Eliot heaves his legs over the side of his bed ready to get his morning underway.

He changes into some light clothes and moves through some routine stretching and yoga - working out the ache and tenseness from his muscles. From there he goes into a light jog, getting his blood pumping. As he jogs, Eliot shakes the sleep from his brain, mentally going through his list for the day. He’ll make breakfast - something boring, yet nutritious - and then take his morning coffee on the go to meet Margo at the arena for their private ice time. After all, that is where Eliot’s day plans begin to falter. The time slot after he and Margo finish at the rink is free ice, meaning that a lot of their fellow Olympic participant club members will be showing up to take advantage and train. Which, in turn, means that the chances of Julia being there are high. Julia, with the awkward nerdy friend that Eliot hasn’t been able to keep out his thoughts in the past week since her party. His dilemma, Eliot supposes, is that he doesn’t know how smart it would be to find Julia and as for Quentin's number. Eliot had really enjoyed talking with him, yes, but with everything ramping up for the Olympics - he can’t help but wonder if it would be worth it to pursue whatever connection he had felt there. It’s not like Julia had approached him on Quentin's behalf either, so there was a chance Eliot was reading too deep into it all and it was just some flirty party fun. 

Stepping off his treadmill, Eliot powers it down and pushes some flyaway hairs back from his face. That would be it then, if he sees Julia today he won’t say anything besides the usual pleasantries. It all feels so middle school, but he just can’t have any distractions right now, especially with the strained state of things between him and Margo - and Quentin with his smirking eyes and floppy hair is slowly gaining the potential to become a big one.

Eliot takes a brisk shower, stepping in and out to avoid the temptation of standing under the hot spray for far too long. He gets ready quickly, going through the motions of his morning with a swift and practiced ease, not wanting to spend more time alone in his apartment. Recently more often than not, Eliot has found himself dreading the silence of his apartment, so he makes it an effort to not laze around when he doesn’t have to. Eating his bland breakfast quickly, Eliot pours his coffee into a to-go mug, grabs his skate bag and makes his way down to the arena.

The walk to the rink is short, the crisp late winter air refreshing around him. Eliot sips at his coffee and wonders what he’ll do with his mornings once he and Margo are no longer training for the Olympics. At some point, they have to make an official statement that they’re stepping away from skating, a thought that brings a tightness to Eliot’s chest. They haven’t overly talked about it, not in-depth, only just enough for them both to agree that they can’t keep up the same level of training anymore. He’s almost thirty-one and as much as he loathes to admit, his years of skating have taken their toll. They’ll obviously have to do a thank you and farewell tour, Eliot doesn’t think either of them could just disappear and stop skating cold-turkey, but once that's over there won’t be any competitions to prepare for. It’s that ‘what next’ - that stupid fucking thought of the future - that makes Eliot want to scream. Logically, he knows it has to end at some point, everything does, but for so long all he’s known is skating. 

He makes his way to the doors of the arena, scanning the parking lot first for any signs of Margo’s car. Not seeing it, Eliot pushes forward and enters the building. It’s empty this early in the morning save for a few custodians and a few other skaters milling about. Eliot spots Jane and Fogg through the observatory windows of the first rink that they have booked. They sit stiffly side-by-side, holding their training binders and talking in a rapid back and forth. 

“What are you looking at? You’ve got smoke coming out of your ears.” Eliot startles as Margo’s voice chimes from behind him and he turns to see his best friend looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Fogg and Jane” He explains, letting Margo swipe the coffee mug from his hands and take a long gulp. “They’re doing that thing again where they sit and look like two disappointed teachers at a parent meeting.”

Margo snorts and rolls her eyes, handing the mug back to him and bumping his shoulder with hers in the direction of the changing rooms. “Yeah, well, they have nothing to be disappointed about. We’re doing fine. All of us are going to be present and on our game today, right El?” 

“Of course.” He concurs, not feeling confident in his response at all. Training has been going well this week, Eliot getting a better hold on his sudden bout of existentialism and leaving it off the ice and giving himself over to the performance, but they’re both still not without their hiccups. He knows he’s not the only one completely at fault, Margo has been working through some shit too - be it about their retirement, her ongoing knee issues or something else entirely - but the blame does fall to him for shutting himself off, but at least Margo had tried talking to him. He gives Margo a light bump back in hopes his actions will be more convincing than his words, but the look she gives him is just expectant and a little sad - it makes Eliot’s guts sink to think he’s letting her down. Over the years he’s grown to not skate for just himself or the medals, but for her. Out there on the ice, they skate for each other and right now Eliot knows that he’s failing.

He veers off into the men’s changing room, knowing that it wouldn’t actually stop Margo if she’d decided she wanted to corner him, but when she doesn’t barge in after him, Eliot reckons he’s safe for the moment. Wasting no time, he changes into his gear, lacing up his figure skates comfortably before sliding on his guards for the walk out to the rink.

Margo is already lapping the ice lazily when he gets out - she’s always been faster than him at getting laced up. As Eliot joins her, he holds a hand out for her to take, she does, and together they loop the rink, falling more in line with one another every lap they make. From the benches, he can hear what sounds like Jane and Fogg wrapping up the conversation they've been having and getting ready to begin training.

Eliot spares a glance around the arena, looking out the windows to the observer's room. He almost falls on his ass when he sees Julia standing there, watching them skate with a bemused expression. When she catches Eliot’s eyes, she grins and waves - a gesture that Eliot returns, confused. Why the fuck would Julia be here watching their training session? Eliot is tempted to just shake it off, but Julia catches him off guard once more when, very carefully through the glass, she mouths _"Come find me after!”_ at him. She then gives Eliot two thumbs up and turns away on her heel.

“What the fuck was that?” Margo questions from his side.

“I have no idea,” Eliot answers truthfully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a kudos and a comment, they fuel me to write more!  
> Things are gonna start ramping up for Eliot here soon in the romance department, so that's going to be exciting! Who's looking forward to it?! I know I am!  
> The dance done by Margo and El is the dance Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir did in the 2010 Olympics and you can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_Pc_a-WBSs&t=284s  
> Come say hi to me on Tumblr @newnewduckberg  
> Cheers!


End file.
